


Saving Grace

by Deadrence



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010), Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal, Blood and Gore, Coercion, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dry Sex, Edgeplay, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Genital Torture, Grooming, Humiliation, Implied Transphobia, Knife Play, M/M, Mutilation, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Slut Shaming, Taunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadrence/pseuds/Deadrence
Summary: When Quentin finds himself in yet another trial against The Dream Demon, things don't go as planned.





	Saving Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank-you to my friend, [Kialish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kialish/pseuds/Kialish) for supporting me and helping me work out the kinks (hehe) in this fic!

Quentin ran. At this point in the trial, he had no idea where he was running to, but he just _ ran_. To stop meant to die; to get caught by _ him_. His lungs were on fire, but his mind was still clear, sharp, and inoculated with adrenaline. Quentin vowed that he would not stop moving until the exit gates were powered and he was out of death’s hands. He had to keep running. However, he had become so preoccupied with looking behind him for the Dream Demon that so haunted him that he almost tripped over a pile of scraps in the Macmillan Estate in the process. It didn’t help that the unnaturally dense fog, on top of his already distorted, semi-conscious state from being pulled into the dream world – _ his _ world – blurred his vision.

He cursed himself and staggered a bit, regaining his balance almost as quickly as he lost it. He was so tired; the kind of exhaustion only felt when the very soul was drained. His legs felt like they were going to give out beneath him any minute, but he pushed forward to the next set of cold brick walls that he could see in the distance. He _ couldn’t _ get caught again; the sacrifice process was going to be held off for as long as he could postpone it. At the very least, he wasn’t going to be caught that easy. 

How long had this trial been going on? It felt like ages since he last touched a generator, but he knew that his teammates had completed a handful of them. Quentin had earned a certain loathing for trials that dragged on for an absurd amount of time, and Freddy Krueger had an awfully bad habit of purposely drawing out their trials together. Always tormenting and toying with him as though he were his own personal plaything. From the moment he found him, he has rarely left his side. Why couldn’t he just leave him alone? The killer had been chasing him around for most of the trial now; why couldn’t he just go after someone else at this point? They only needed a few more generators to get out of this mess. Though, now that he thought about it, it had been a long time since the last generator popped…

The scissor-like sound of several blades scraping together behind him was like a taunt. Quentin didn’t need to turn around to know that Krueger was gaining on him, his bloodlust increasing with every waking moment. He needed to find a pallet, _ now_.

_ Focus_. Quentin’s heavy eyes fixated on the brick walls in front of him. Having already looped around this area before, he managed to avoid using the pallet. He could only hope that it was still there.

His heartbeat was getting louder and louder, almost thundering in his ears. Quentin could hear the killer’s footsteps behind him and could practically feel his breath against his neck. He was so close…but he knew that he wasn’t going to make it before Freddy cut him open again. If only he wasn’t so exhausted…

The sound of a clicking flashlight behind them distracted both the hunter and the hunted. 

Quentin spun his head around and saw Claudette standing there. Hunched over, she was gripping her blood-soaked abdomen in one hand and a utility flashlight in the other, desperately trying to grab Krueger’s attention.

Freddy gave an irritated frown at the incessant clicking going on right beside him, and Quentin watched as the Dream Demon did a double-take at the injured survivor, never failing to trail right behind him – Krueger refused to let him go free _ just yet_. The two survivors locked eyes for a moment, a small, reassuring grin forming across Claudette’s tired lips. Why was she doing this? She was going to die if he left their chase, and the exit gates were still not powered.

She began to taunt him more, and the Demon only spread his lips in a wicked grin as he began to move for her instead – an easy, weakened target, toying with his gloved hand once more. However, she was near one of the few pallets that Quentin didn’t use this trial, and as soon as he noticed this, he let out a huff and turned right back on Quentin’s trail a second later.

He didn’t even care that Krueger was chasing him again, the distraction Claudette gave bought him the few precious seconds he needed to reach the next area and put some distance between them. Quentin gave a mental sigh of relief in between his large gasps for breath – there had indeed been a pallet at this spot. His lungs were burning and his focus was dwindling, but at least he could buy his team some more time. The survivor rounded the corner, going for a loop, and as soon as he did, he realized that it was a mistake. Freddy still had bloodlust.

The expression on Krueger’s face at the sight of his prey finally within his grasp was something that Quentin could never get used to. The survivor braced himself, but the sick feeling of rusted metal tearing at his shoulder blade and down into his lower back hurt just as much as it did the very first time. Quentin howled, but the burst of speed the impact gave him was enough to let him reach the pallet from the other side. He threw it down with no hesitation this time.

***click***

_ No way, _ Quentin thought.

A growl escaped from the killer as he looked over to the injured woman yet again trying to grab his attention. “That fucking bitch…” he seethed under his breath. Krueger gave a momentary glare at his prey before disappearing around the corner. Quentin preemptively ran the opposite way around the wall, thinking that he was just going to come back around. But when the heartbeat steadily faded into the distance, he stood there in numb shock. Had he _ really _ left him? After chasing him for _ so long_?

Wiping away at the blood and sweat dripping down his forehead, he blew out through his mouth and allowed himself to rest against the wall. He felt like he could cry tears of joy. He didn’t question why Krueger had left their chase, but he was absolutely going to have to thank Claudette after this trial. Dragging his hands down his sleep-deprived face, the survivor searched through the supplies from his med kit. Grasping one of the suturing needles, Quentin slammed it into his thigh, waking himself up from the nightmare world. 

Quentin didn’t take any chances, and used this opportunity to move away from the area. If Krueger came back, he would be long gone. 

The survivor carefully slumped down against a wooden box. His back felt wet and sticky, soaked from his own blood and sweat, but he leaned against the box using his good side. After a few seconds of silence and no sign of Krueger, he took a moment to examine his wounds. Carefully peeling away at scraps of blue cloth, he winced as he rolled his shoulder over. His shirt was ruined, again. Krueger’s knives did a number on him. He couldn’t see the entire wound, but his shoulder had flaps of skin hanging off from the deep lacerations. The wound felt hot to the touch and stung like he had been bitten by a thousand fire ants.

Quentin let out a sigh and released his shoulder. It wasn’t the worst wound he’s ever had; Hillbilly’s chainsaws tended to hit him a lot harder and leave him mangled for the rest of the trial. At least this wasn’t permanent, but his back was still butchered. Quentin opened up his med kit and grabbed the last of the clean gauze contained within it, and he began to wrap them over the wounds. 

A shrill scream in the distance sent a cold chill down his spine. She had been caught… Quentin was almost done applying the dressings before he heard the deep rumbling in the distance. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he caught sight of the Entity’s appendages appearing above the darkened sky.

_ “Shit…” _ he mumbled. How many people were left? He remembered that David had been sacrificed early on, but he couldn’t recall who else was still alive. Pure exhaustion muddled Quentin’s brain, and he struggled to remember.

Deciding not to dwell on it, he automatically reached for more gauze, only to find that his fingers brushed against the cool, smooth metal of the empty kit. 

_ “_**_Fuck_**_, not now!” _ he whispered. _ “I thought I had more left…” _

Quentin grumbled to himself. Maybe he could find another med kit? If he was lucky, he could find the hatch.

Freddy’s approaching lullaby made his heart stop dead in its tracks. Maybe he wouldn’t be so lucky. He sunk down lower behind the box, but the grass near him began to move. He was already being pulled back into the dream world before he could finish standing up.

Quentin made a mad dash for it, but he didn’t get very far before the killer appeared to him again.

“Gotcha this time,” Krueger grinned as he lunged forwards, his bladed glove reopening his half mended wounds. 

Quentin cried out and collapsed to the ground in a heap. The pain muddled his thoughts, but he moved to press his face against the cold dirt, seeking a moment’s reprise before the agony of being hooked again was sure to come.

“I have to admit, that black bitch really gets on my nerves sometimes,” the killer mused as he lazily cleaned Quentin’s blood off of his glove. He widened his grin and placed a foot on Quentin’s back, placing an arm over his thigh as he cocked his head to get a better look at the survivor beneath him. “But she won’t be bothering us anymore~” 

Quentin could feel his pulse quicken as the blood rushed to his head, and before he knew it he was being slung over the killer’s shoulder. He laid there in defeat, just waiting for this trial to be over. Every muscle in Quentin’s body ached, and he was too drained to fight back. He kept his gaze on the grass while he was being carried into oblivion, but when grass turned to wood, and wood turned to steps, he began to panic. He finally lifted up his head. 

He was being carried to the basement.

Krueger halted in front of the hook, tilting his head to one side for a moment as he contemplated.

“You know what? Change of plans.”

The killer dropped Quentin onto the hard ground without a care. Quentin moaned in pain, his throbbing shoulder burning from the sudden agitation. He managed to weakly flip over onto his back and give a nervous look up at the killer. 

“What do you mean?” he grit through his teeth.

Krueger flashed his teeth at him before quickly wrapping a hand around Quentin’s throat and hoisting him up, slamming him against the aged wood of the basement walls.

Quentin gasped at the pain and for his breath, wrapping his own hands around the killers to try to lessen the pressure. “P-please,” he gurgled in between struggled breaths.

Krueger paid no attention. “You know, that chase of yours really pissed me off. You should know by now that I’m always gonna get ya in the end, but this time you wasted too much of my time.” 

Krueger briefly eyed him up and down, refusing to loosen the hold on his throat. The sound of his blades scraping together as Krueger decided what he should do with him frightened Quentin more than he would like to admit. 

What _ was _ he going to do? Why wasn’t he just hooking him? Where was the remaining survivor? 

Freddy raised his glove up to caress Quentin’s face, loosening the hold on his throat. He trailed the back of the glove down his cheek and turned it back over to allow his single index blade to catch on the collar of his shirt. He grazed the blade across his skin, just deep enough to draw blood. Quentin winced and widened his eyes in fear. Krueger continued to slowly pull the blade down and began to tear at his shirt, leaving small trickles of blood and marred fabric in his wake.

“_Ow_, s-stop!” Quentin yelped, his breathing steadily quickening the lower down Krueger got. Soon enough, he reached the end of his shirt, and made a final tug to finish the job.

Quentin’s mind raced as he became more acutely aware at how dangerous this situation could become.

“What are you doing?” Quentin sputtered a bit, still gabbing at the burnt hands locked around his throat. 

_ “Let’s have a little fun, shall we?” _ Krueger’s voice rang out, warm and husky. 

Suddenly, Quentin was thrown to the ground beside the killer. The harsh grain of the wood and dirt digging into his marred back sent him into a state of shock. He gasped and coughed for breath, the scream of pain dying in his throat. His head was spinning as he tried to sit up. 

A dangerously low and gravely laugh echoed out from the Dream Demon.

Krueger knelt to sit directly above his favorite prey. “For old times’ sake, huh?” He grabbed onto the survivor’s jeans and started to pull them down with a smirk. 

“WAIT – _ NO,_” Quentin recoiled and dragged himself along the ground in a desperate attempt to back away from him, but Freddy pulled him back closer. When Quentin struggled more and started to panic, Krueger brought up his gloved hand to meet across Quentin’s face, slicing into his cheek to shut him up. 

Quentin could only cry out as he reached to grab at these new wounds.. Blood soaked his fingers as he held his face, feeling ribbons of flesh that had been torn open. 

Tears started to flow down his cheeks. He tried to speak, but the words came out a garbled mess as blood started pouring into his mouth. The warm, metallic taste made him shudder and he coughed up the overflow that couldn’t be swallowed. The realization of what had just been done to him was even more concerning: he could no longer properly speak or call for help.

“I think you forgot who’s in control here!” Krueger growled. 

The Dream Demon grabbed ahold of Quentin’s ankles and yanked him closer against his body, the survivor throwing his hands behind to catch himself. 

“What, you don’t _ want _ to spend some time with your old pal Freddy?”

Quentin was absolutely terrified. Freddy liked playing with him, but he hasn’t done anything like this in a trial before.

“I remember when you used to sit on my lap as we read for story time. Do you remember, Quentin? Before you got me killed? We were so close back then.” 

The killer clicked his tongue and continued pulling off Quentin's pants. “But you have nothing to worry about. You can always make it up to me.” 

Quentin's words were lost as he tried to scoot himself back in protest. He ended up collapsing onto the ground – his muscles were at their limit. He had been running Krueger around all trial, and with the wounds he sustained, he wasn't in a position to fight back. 

Krueger growled again. “Are you gonna make me cut off your arms and legs so you stop squirming? No one’s here to help you. It’s going to happen. You can make it easier for yourself, or, you can draw it out.” Freddy suddenly changed his demeanor, lowering his voice as he raised his eyebrows in consideration. “I’m fine with the latter~”

_ “Fuukc eyu_,” Quentin sputtered before whimpering and scrunching his face from the pain of trying to speak. He was so, _ so _ tired. If he could fall into an eternal sleep to prevent him from being here with Kruger, then he would. He’d rather be sacrificed to the Entity 100 times over if it meant he could avoid this. 

Krueger pulled Quentin’s jeans down over his ankles, tearing them off and throwing them against one of the corner walls of the basement. He gave a lustful glance at the bulge in Quentin’s underwear.

“_Mmn_. You’ve grown so big.”

Quentin grimaced through the numbness settling on his mangled face and body. He felt so helpless. Being this close to Krueger, he could smell his charred flesh. It was nauseating, his stomach full of blood he continued to swallow down. He stifled the urge to upheave and resorted to squeezing his eyes shut, praying to whatever God would listen that this would be over quick.

Krueger placed a hand over his crotch and gave a rough squeeze. Quentin made a noise of protest, legs trying to close instinctively. “You know, you had me worried for a second. With how long your hair is, I was worried you were trying to be a girl.” 

Quentin narrowed his eyes, but before he could fully react, his underwear was being pulled off. He lay there exposed and embarrassed, only his socks and shoes remain on.

“My little Quen’s all grown up now, _ huh_?” Kruger grinned and cooed in a soothing, seductive voice. 

Krueger moved to undo his own belt, and the naked survivor averted his eyes. If his visible skin was charred beyond hope, then he didn’t want to see what lie down below. He nervously swallowed down more blood and saliva.

When Quentin heard the killer pull out his cock, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. _ Why is this happening? _

Krueger wrapped his left hand around his cock and started working himself until he was partially hard, groaning as he looked down at Quentin. Stroking himself with his ungloved hand, Freddy trailed the claws down Quentin’s inner thigh, the survivors legs trembling as his skin split. Kruger pried his legs open a bit, Quentin's panic rising. 

“Nnngn, donnn do.” 

“Please do? Well, since you asked so kindly-”

Quentin’s legs were spread further and lifted up slightly, and he had no warning as Freddy pushed himself in. Quentin cried out, arching his back which pressed his ruined shoulder into the ground. There was no lube, no hesitation, just more pain shooting up through his core.

Quentin sucked in his breath when he felt Krueger pull out and thrust back into him, inhaling more blood and coughing. Tears were pouring again, Quentin was not used to this. It felt like he was tearing. Freddy pushed deeper into him, if only slightly.

“Man, you’re tight. Bet you’re a virgin, right? A pretty little boy like you couldn’t fuck anyone else.”

The killer continued to slowly thrust into him, working Quentin’s asshole to his liking as the boy cried out with each thrust.

Everything was burning. The pain wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t move or it would just get worse. By the way his dick felt inside of him, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was misshapen. 

When Kruger exchanged glances with Quentin, his eyes were full of malice, but the survivor bit his tongue as he threw back his head and fixated his eyes on the ceiling. If he said anything, he might hold true to his promise and cut him up like he said he was going to.

Krueger began to thrust faster, gaining a steady speed as Quentin was forced to loosen up. But without lube, there was so much friction, not even the blood from the tearing enough to make the action any better. It felt like he was being fucked with sandpaper. His fear made every muscle in his body tense up, and this only made the experience worse. 

The feeling of Krueger inside of him was unnatural. He never had something inside of him like this before, and he felt ashamed. Krueger was right, he was a virgin. He wanted to view sex as something special, with someone he loved and cared about. Never mind the fact that his parents would have killed him if they would have found out all those years ago. He never dreamed of having it in this fashion, in the Entity’s realm, with the person he simultaneously feared and hated most. 

Krueger kept thrusting, and with time, it became easier to bear. The rough texture from his burned skin was sensual, but Quentin was still crying silently to himself. The smell of sweat, blood, and bodily fluids filled the musty air of the basement. The continuous, rhythmic throbbing motions made Quentin whine out of pain and…

“Damn, you little sicko, you’re getting turned on by this, huh? Never would have guessed you were such a little whore for me by how you’ve been acting lately.” 

_ No_. He couldn’t possibly be enjoying this; he _ wasn’t _ enjoying this! That didn’t make any sense to him! But when Quentin fluttered his eyes open, they widened when they caught sight of his own erection growing. His body was betraying him, and Quentin’s cheeks flushed further with red. “Nno – no I –“

“Shut up,” the killer grunted.

Quentin did. Krueger grabbed ahold of Quentin’s hair with his free hand as he rocked into him, forcing his head back down to the ground. His fingers tightened around his curls, pulling at his hair with every wave, and Quentin could hear Freddy’s breathing quicken as his hot breath flushed against his own clammy skin. 

Quentin hated this, but at the rate he was going the more heat built up in him. He wanted to touch himself but refused. Freddy inside of him started to feel _ really _ good, and Quentin masked a moan with a sound of misery at his situation.

Krueger eventually quickened his pace, grunting and huffing, and soon the survivor felt a release inside of him. Leave it to Freddy to finish so quickly, but at least he was grateful for it. The Demon groaned as he shuddered and thrusted sluggishly, milking the last of his orgasm into Quentin. 

His head was spinning, but when Krueger pulled out, Quentin noticed that his dick, indeed, was misshapen. It was sickly purple-red in color and was mangled and bent in an unnatural way, but it was much smaller than he originally thought. It felt much larger inside of him, but maybe that was just because it was twisted? He really didn’t want to think about it any longer.

Krueger sat back and appreciated the sight of himself, covered in his own fluids. He then looked back to Quentin expectantly. ““Like what you see?” Krueger grinned when he noticed Quentin staring at him. “Well, go on then.” His eyes lowered down to his sticky load, then back up to the survivor to hint at his meaning.

“hhwat?” Quentin spit.

“Lap it up. You know you want to.”

“No! ure sik!” 

“Not as sick as you.”

Quentin stared at him in disbelief. He wanted to wipe that stupid toothy grin right off of his face. After all of that, he _ still _ wasn’t done with him?

“Well?” Kreuger tapped his blade on the ground impatiently. “Clock’s ticking.”

Quentin vigorously shook his head. “N-no, jusss kill me ins’ead.”

“Oh? How about I take your little flashlight friend for a ride next time instead? You wanna watch her be my fleshlight instead of you? Or are you gonna be a good boy and listen?” he added after a pause. “It’s the _ least _ you could do.” 

Quentin’s breathing stopped for a few seconds. Claudette risked her life to save his! He knew the killer wasn’t lying, but Kreuger was more demented than he thought, if that was even possible. He actually enjoyed all of this… surely he had a special place in hell for him, if this wasn’t it already.

Hesitantly, Quentin tried to sit up, but his muscles locked. He had been so tense for so long that he found it difficult to move at all.

Krueger sighed dramatically, and he started to stand up. “Well, such a friend you are.” 

“mmm tr’ing!!” Quentin yelled, immediately regretting it as he raised his hand to clutch his mangled cheek. 

Krueger hummed and sat back down. Hands on his hips, he thrust forward and straightened his legs to make sure his dick had clear and easy access for Quentin. The survivor, shaking and weak, crawled closer towards him. His ass was still raw, but he tried to hold back his contempt. He didn’t _ want _ to do this, but he felt like he had no other choice. He cared about Claudette; it would break his heart if she were subjected to the same horrors he had just gone through. 

Quentin moved closer to the killer’s dripping cock, eyeing it with hatred. He slowly leaned down, but recoiled at the stench. It was worse than he could’ve imagined, smelling like rot and blood. Quentin hesitated on getting closer, but Freddy grabbed his hair and shoved his cock into the survivor's face. Quentin tried to twist away, a mistake on his part as Krueger’s cock instead pushed against the tears in his cheek. Quentin cried out, Freddy taking his chance and shoving his deformed dick into his mouth. The action of opening his mouth tore at his cheek again, and Quentin groaned miserably as more tears streaked the bloody mess that painted his face. Quentin was trying too hard not to vomit, his mouth slick with saliva and his own gore and now with Freddy’s cum. Freddy didn’t seem to care, moaning in pleasure and twisting his hand in the boys hair. The killer thrust his hips into Quentin's ruined mouth, ignoring the other man's struggle to keep his stomach contents in check. He might actually vomit this time.

Upon feeling Quentin gag, Freddy let out a low laugh and angled himself to push in deeper so that Quentin had almost all of his entirety in his mouth. If he wasn’t gagging before, he definitely was now. It was difficult to even breathe. Quentin instinctively blew air out of his nose in panic, but some of his sour cum came out with it. His eyes were watering, and he felt like he wanted to die. It was like he dragged him further into his own special place in hell. It was a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. 

“Yeah, that’s a good fucking slut. Take all of it in~” Krueger seemed to be _ loving _ this. 

Quentin was gagging more obviously now, spit leaking from the corners of his mouth and dribbling down his chin, but the Demon wasn’t finished just yet. He seemed to enjoy watching him struggle and writhe under him. Quentin had no choice but to swallow his cum.

It was as bad as he imagined it would be, his stomach clenching and trying to upheave as he forced it down. Even once he had swallowed it tried to come back up. His eyes watered painfully, coughing as Krueger held him in place and laughed. 

After he was sure Quentin had suffered just enough, Freddy finally let go of him. Quentin jolted back and landed flat on his ass. He began to cough and shakily wiped away at the slobber and soiled fluids dripping down his mouth and chin. The queasiness in his stomach was too much to handle, and he turned over and immediately threw up. The acid burned and the blood and cum was even worse coming back up, but Quentin was used to the pain by now. But he didn’t think he would ever forget the taste any time soon.

“Not bad for a virgin.” 

Quentin spit the last of it out and could only narrow his eyes at him. _ If looks could kill _. Aside from having his cheek torn open, he was actually speechless. His glare only made the killer’s smile grow in size, and Krueger moved to put his twisted cock back into his pants, not even bothering to wipe off Quentin's drool.

“Awe, Quen, don’t give me that look. You know you enjoyed it.” 

Krueger stood up, taking his sweet time to readjust his clothing and infamous fedora. “Now, then, to finish this.” 

He flashed the survivor on the ground a self-satisfied grin, and he quickly took ahold of his throat once more, hoisting Quentin up despite the small squeak of disapproval. Quentin was slinged across his shoulder. The killer turned around to face one of the basement hooks and promptly threw Quentin onto one. 

The survivor howled out expectantly, but his cries turned to incoherent garble as his mouth filled with more blood.

Freddy took a step to leave but turned back on his heel. “Oh, wait! What kind of lover would I be if you didn’t cum too~?”

_ You have got to be joking, _ Quentin thought. _ Just let me die! _

“After all, your dick is still hard.”

“ou’ve a’ready one so muc-”

“You know, you’re hard to understand when you talk like that. But I insist!” he said gleefully, with a false sense of reassurance. 

_ Someone still has to be alive_, Quentin thought. He didn’t remember if there were any survivors left in the trial, but there had to be _ someone_. One person. Someone who noticed that he had been hooked, and someone who could save him; get him out of the dream world. He didn’t even care that he would be seen unclothed. 

But wait - that would just give him more time with Freddy, wouldn’t it? He began to struggle to get himself off of the hook, hoping that the Entity would soon take him and end his suffering.

After several attempts at pulling himself off the hook, he realized something was very wrong. Why wasn’t the Entity appearing to complete the sacrifice? He kept trying, and Krueger waited patiently. He seemed to know something that Quentin did not. After several more pitiful attempts, the survivor finally gave up and allowed himself to simply dangle from the hook. 

“Awe, want to go so soon? At least let me return the favor,” he chuckled. “Oh, and remember, if you fight back, little miss flashlight...”

Quentin bit his tongue. _ Of course_, he remembered. Krueger stepped forwards and wrapped his ungloved hand around Quentin’s cock. By the look on his face, he seemed to be jealous that it was larger than his own - or maybe he was upset that Quentin had indeed grown into an adult. Either way, he began to stroke slowly as he looked up at Quentin to try and bait a reaction.

Quentin wanted so badly to kick him in the face, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would keep his word about Claudette. The pain from being hooked added to his displeasure, but he forced himself to hang still. How he could still be hard was beyond him. Maybe Krueger was fucking with him in the way he did, little hints at what power he used to have. Maybe Quentin really was just a freak. He tried to block out the world around him and go to a different plane of existence.

Krueger continued pumping and stroking him, and Quentin began to writhe under his touch. He resorted to trying his damnedest to avoid hinting at any pleasure, squeezing his eyes shut and biting down on his tongue to hold back from making any noise that’d give him away. He _ hated _ himself. He didn’t want Krueger to have the satisfaction of getting him off. 

“Yeah, you know you like it when I touch you like that.”

“_Nng_,” the survivor let out despite his best efforts. His voice was so husky and oddly _ soothing_, he hated it. He normally hated his voice, why was it affecting him like this now?

“_Hm_? I couldn’t hear you_._”

When he got no response, Krueger ran his thumb over the head of Quentin’s cock roughly, causing Quentin to squirm and hike his hips forwards closer to him. The action forced a moan to escape his lips.

“ah, fuck..”

“Tell me you want me, Quen.”

“I-” he hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. _ Did _ he? He didn’t know anymore. He just wanted this to be over, to let it sink away into the back of his mind like everything else Krueger did to him. If only he would stop touching him so that he could think clearly.

“Tell me.” He demanded, squeezing Quentin's cock painfully and smiling when the boy choked. 

“Y-yes,” Quentin lamented as he felt his face get hot. “Please...” 

“Good boy,” Freddy cooed. 

Quentin was just doing this for Claudette’s sake, that’s what he kept telling himself. No one else deserved this. He was revolted with his response to the situation, but he just couldn’t help it as Freddy’s grip loosened and began to pump his shaft again. Quentin clenched his fists together and dug his nails into his palms, moans and whimpers more freely pouring out of him. He was close to coming, hoping that it would be the end of this.

“Cum for me~” the killer purred, his voice low and seductive.

He hated Krueger. He hated how his voice was the last thing he needed to push him over the edge. The voice of the gardener who had once tricked the whole preschool into believing he was their friend. It made him feel disgusting as cum shot out in strings over Krueger's hand.

Once he opened his eyes again, panting and drained in every way he could think of, he was disappointed to see that there was still no sight of Entity reaching out for him.

“Good, _ good _ boy.” Freddy seemed self-satisfied now.

The killer clicked his tongue as he idly milked Quentin’s dick. “I know you got more in you.” Before he could let the survivor respond, Freddy chuckled a bit. “I wonder, if you liked having me up your ass so much before, if you actually do like pain..?”

Quentin’s breathing stopped. He shook his head, too tired to speak.

“I thought you just told me that you wanted me? Were you _ lying_, Quentin?”

Quentin stared numbly ahead, his eyes vacant of any emotion. His mind felt groggy, and he didn’t know what to do. Freddy’s voice had been dangerously low, and it sounded like he wanted a response. What would he do to him if he didn’t answer? 

Quentin shook his head from one side to the next in a pitiful response; the only one he could manage.

“Good, I knew you weren’t lying. You wouldn’t do that to me.” 

The killer paused as he looked down to Quentin’s dick again, lifting up his fingers to his mouth and licking some cum off of his fingers, appreciating the survivor’s familiar salty taste. “You know you’re all mine, right?” 

Krueger extended his bladed glove and rested one blade just above every side of Quentin’s cock, cradling it like a koozie. Quentin’s heart thundered in his chest as he remained dangling on the hook. “My personal _ slut _-”

Krueger spat the last word as he pulled his knives together and dug the razor blades into Quentin’s delicate flesh, pulling down his hand in one swift motion. Quentin screamed as his dick was shred, his legs kicking and blood seeping from every single one of his wounds. His mind was blank, the fresh agony seeming to wake up every nerve in his body with a sharp jolt. Everything was red. Everything was pain.

Quentin felt like he was going to pass out any second from sheer agony, but the Entity wouldn’t even grant him that gift. Freddy simply waited until the screaming had subsided, and until Quentin remained in a dazed state, a seamless high whine the only noise he could make anymore.

Finally, finally, after his spirit had been utterly decimated, the Entity started to come for him. Quentin could hear the creaking as the appendages start to grow around his hook like a slow, saving grace, but he couldn’t quite see them. His eyes couldn’t focus on anything, tunneling out and then back in as his ears rang. He was like a hollow shell just waiting to be crumbled.

“Oh Quentin, by the way?” Krueger said as he started to walk up the basement steps. “Nancy sucked better dick.” 

For the first time since Quentin came into this realm, the Entity plunging it’s tendril into his chest felt _ good_.


End file.
